A Shift in Power
by You'llHaveToGuessIt
Summary: True Love is known to be the most powerful magic, whilst ordinary love is argued to be a weakness in and of itself. A kiss born of True Love is known to break any curse. There are curses True Love's Kiss can't break, such as the curse of the werewolf. And there are curses that refuse to go down without a fight. In those cases, a kiss will free the cursed, but curse the kisser.
1. Chapter 1

**The story begins**

* * *

It began in what was once her father's throne room, but soon became the war room when things went downhill. Parts (large parts) of the walls were missing, and few of the windows still held glass in their panes. The table was crooked and the elaborate chair worn, a belt draped over it to keep the wood in place. The suits of armour once dotting the place were now worn by the guards. The council was a hodge-podge collection of trusted advisers, army officers and local wise men. Plus Belle, who wasn't really supposed to be there. Avonlea had just fallen, and her father had lost hope. That was when she saw him for the first time. They expected to see him outside the doors, but turned to find him in her father's chair. Grinning. His teeth were stained and crooked, his eyes calculating and dark. His hands were wild, his hair wilder, and his dragon-hide coat was ridiculous. He treated Gaston (and his ever-present sword) with disdain, but looked at her like she was special. Or at least interesting. So that was how it began; with a deal.

The deal led her to the Dark Castle, now noticeably less dark what with her demolishing the curtain rails. She had cleaned up all the dust and the cobwebs, and polished the silverware, and even when she chipped the crockery and released the torture victims, he still smiled and let her hug him, and gifted her with libraries. It probably got its name from the depressing decor and tattered tapestries, and the many towers and spires that led her to getting lost every other day. The dungeons also added to the dank atmosphere.

That had led to an awkward dance, the pair of them nervously shifting around one another like love-struck fools, watching each other when one looked away. Reading and spinning in comfort before a roaring fire. Which in turn led to her release. On the road, hood over her face and basket in hand, Belle had met a dark-haired woman with a cruel smile and colder eyes. She came in a horse-drawn carriage, the horses blacker than night. They foamed at the mouth, and pawed at the air. The men that controlled them looked straight ahead, and only one looked at her, as though warning her away. The woman gave some interesting advice, that prompted her to turn back home.

And that led to now. She sat before Rumplestiltskin, between him and his wheel, and stared into his reptilian eyes. _Why did you come back?_ His voice was subdued and unsure, with an underlying current of hope that made her smile at him. _I wasn't going to... but then, something changed my mind..."_ She leaned towards him, and he leaned towards her, and it resulted in a chaste kiss that was brief, but made her heart race all the same.

The brunette then leaned back, a grin spreading across her face, her head spinning as a wave of dizziness spread over her. _"What's happening?"_ Rumplestiltskin was confused, and it was like the world came into sharp focus as she watched his scales recede, his hair straighten, and his eyes become brown. His face was completely normal when she managed to ruin it. _"Who told you that? Who knows that!?"_ Her stuttering was answer enough, and the Dark One had all the information he needed. He marched over to the mirror in the Great Hall, concealed by a thick covering, and bared its surface to the world. He began to yell, and his maid confusedly stood up behind him. He turned to yell at her instead, and ignored her pleas for him to understand. He shook her as tears filled her eyes, and she involuntarily flinched when he shoved his face close to hers. _"No one could ever, ever, love me!"_ Then he dragged her away to the darkness of the dungeon, and the Queen on the other side of the mirror cackled at their planned misfortune.

What none of them had noticed, for the Queen's magic had been blocked by the draped cloth, and Rumplestiltskin's vision had momentarily dimmed as the magic tried to leave him, was that as _his_ face became more human, _her _face began to change too. Small scales collected around her mouth and nose, dotting her cheeks, her eyes sharpening in colour and becoming like those of a cat. It was only when the Dark One shoved her away that her fangs dulled back to teeth, and her hair lightened back to a honey-brown.


	2. Chapter 2

**Banished (forever?)**

* * *

Whilst Belle was in the dungeon, Rumplestiltskin remained upstairs in the Great Hall. The first thing he did was re-cover the mirror with the heavy cloth, cutting off a disappointed Queen from the show. Then he grabbed the broom she used to sweep the floor, and broke it in half. One half he threw through the window, the other he rose above his head. He brought it down upon the glass of the cabinet, shattering it to the floor. Wood splintered and caught him in the face, catching in his hair. He stopped only when breathing itself became too much for him and stood, panting, his head bowed by the weight of his broken heart. He dropped the handle on the floor and leaned on his cabinet for support.

With an almighty breath he pushed himself up, away from the shattered glass, and towards the great oak doors. Before he reached them he disappeared in a plume of smoke (and for the first time in years he missed his mark), reappearing to walk into the door of the library. He tore it off its hinges and into the room, and began throwing books across the room with his magic. When he was done, paper littered the floor. Then he transported himself back to the great room and sank to the ground. But much to his dismay he could hear Belle crying, her sobs echoing across the castle. As though she had a right to be upset!? He stood up and strode to the table, intending to cover the noise. He grabbed the tea set and flung it piece by piece at the wall with all his might. It didn't occur to him to use magic.

When he reached Belle's cup, he paused. In the new silence he could hear her whispering to herself, his heightened senses picking up on the sound. _"I don't understand what I did wrong..."_ He set the cup back down with a sneer. Soon he would remove the problem once and for all.

Some time later, after he had spun enough to calm himself, he made his way down to the dungeon. As he traversed the darkened passageways he somehow, against his own will, managed to convince himself not to kill Belle. By the time he got there, his plan was to let her go. Seeing her sat there, upon opening the door, with vacant eyes and a despondent expression, made him want to forgive her, and keep her forever, and mend both their broken hearts. He shook himself out of it. Her pain was just an act. She was just irritated her plan had failed, and she had disappointed the Queen. He reassured himself of this as he sent her away, but his resolve began to crumble as she came clacking back. She stood, her faces inches from his, and accused him of sabotaging his own happiness. He told her he couldn't care less about her, but the words were becoming harder and harder to choke out. He wanted to beg her to come back to him, and the darkness inside him was relieved when she said "No, it doesn't. But now you've made your choice. And you're going to regret it. Forever. And all you'll have, is an empty heart, and a chipped cup." The spinner inside him sobbed as her tears began to fall (they are fake, remember that, they are fake), and flinched when her voice cracked at the end. He stayed where he was until, five minutes later, when she was sure to have found the satchel of supplies he had placed by the entrance, Belle slammed the door behind her.

* * *

As she passed through the Great Hall, Belle looked at the carnage her love had wrought. Glass lay broken across the floor, porcelain shattered by the walls. One of the drapes, now nailed back to the wall, was not as secure as the others and fluttered in the breeze caused by what was surely a broken window. She sadly shook her head at the destruction, and made her way through the heavy doors. Folded on the floor just before the main entryway was the cloak he had gifted her when they went after the Sherwood thief. Even _then_ he was caring for her. She wiped away her tears and knelt on the cold ground, lifting the heavy cloak in her arms. It unfolded as she stood, and a satchel fell from within with a thud. Assuming it was for her she slung it over her shoulder, and with a brief glance behind she pulled open the doors, and left the Dark Castle for what she believed would be forever.

A few hours later, out of the mountain pass and in a heavily wooded area, Belle stopped to rest, exhausted. She sat on a log just beyond the hollow of a tree, and rubbed her sore ankles. She knew she had to continue, but just wanted some peace for a moment. She had nothing to think about but Rumple as she walked, and so spent the entirety of her rest forcing herself to think of something _other_ than Rumplestiltskin. Such as her father. The effort made her more tired and, without meaning to, she drifted off to sleep. When she awoke she was shocked to find the darkness had fled, and it was the bright light of dawn that had disturbed her. She shot up with a start, realising she had planned to get much closer to the Marshlands than she was yesterday. And also find water before dark, which didn't work out either. She dropped her head into her palms in despair at her foolishness.

Soon, thankfully, she recalled Rumple's gift. Freeing her arms from the comfort of the cloak she had draped over herself, she reached for the satchel, whose strap she had wrapped around her ankle. She lifted the flap to find that on top there was a blanket. She pulled it out, expecting the coarse fabric they used back at her father's estate in the infirmary, but was delighted to find it to be soft and smooth to touch. She refolded it and placed it on the log beside her. Next was a pair of water-skins, regretfully empty. She sighed, and placed those atop the blanket. Then she pulled out parcels of leaves and, not wanting to disturb them just yet, she placed them on her other side. Also in the satchel was a change of clothes (some kind of red leather that she didn't want to analyse at that moment, but was glad to find included deerskin breeches and a heavy pair of boots that she was surprised actually fit in the bag), a coil of rope (for some reason), a book in another language, a spool of gold thread, and a small dagger. She nearly swore at Rumple's thoughtlessness in not providing food, until she remembered the leaf-parcels.

She unwrapped them carefully, removing the twine, to find some odd kind of biscuit inside. At least, they looked like biscuits, and felt like biscuits, but they smelt like bread. Suspicious, she took a small nibble of one corner, and immediately smiled at the taste. Crunchy, a little dry, but satisfying all the same. She moved to take another bite, but stopped herself just before she did at the realisation she was no longer hungry. She blinked down at the bread-biscuits with surprise. She had not thought the stuff existed, but did not find herself shocked that it did. Lembus bread, baked by the elves and known to be able to fill a grown man's stomach with the smallest bite. She shook her head and repacked her satchel, clothes at the bottom, blanket at the side, then the rope, the book, the water and the bread, and the spool and dagger in a side pocket not there when she began.

She stood and pulled the cloak over her shoulders, noticing the gloves not there before either. She wore them for the added warmth, since there was very little heat this close to the mountain range, snow still around in smatterings upon the ground. With her hood over her head and her satchel hidden away, Belle began the trek onward, to a stream where she might quench her thirst. Thankfully there was a clear one she found not three hours later, tumbling over rocks an impressive distance from its origin in the mountains. She drank her fill and topped up both water-skins, securing their stoppers tightly. She then stripped down as far as she dared in this not-entirely-enclosed space, and washed as much of her body as the water could reach. The stream was not overly deep, but was enough so that, if she were to lie down, her raised arm would be open to air at her elbow. Her clothes were also washed in the stream, them before her, and left to sun on a flat rock. After trying (and failing) to keep her hair dry whilst washing herself, she used the blanket to dry off where she could, pulled on the now dry-and-crisp dress and undergarments, and forced her hair back with a ribbon.

Ready once more, she continued on her journey from mid-morning until late evening. She sorely wished she had stayed in the village she had passed through, but it was too late for that now - it was an hour behind her, and darkness was rushing in. Already she struggled to see the road before her. She thus moved off into the trees, managing to find a wide one that could hide her from the road. Using her blanket as a pillow and her cloak as a blanket, she settled herself down for the night, hoping that tomorrow she would be able to find the village by the dwarf mines.

In the morning, awoken as she was by the passing of a carriage, Belle ate as much Lembus bread as she could manage (another tiny bite), and drank a good amount of water before relieving herself as necessary further into the tree line. When comfortable once more, she retrieved her satchel and cloak, pulled on her gloves, and set out in what she hoped was the right direction. The fairy dust mines were between fifteen and twenty miles away, and whilst that was a relatively easy distance for a hardened walker, it was not so for a noblewoman who spent most of her life trapped in doors, even if she'd spent most of the last few months traversing a ridiculous amount of staircases. Puffing out her cheeks in frustration and determination, Belle set out on her way.

She reached the place around midnight, having not wanted to stop when she felt she was so close. Thankfully, the first building she stumbled into in the small town (a collection of buildings really, only ten or so for travellers. Dwarves live underground) was a tavern that doubled as an inn. She moved away from the doorway and let it close on the still night. She lowered her hood as she searched for the owner, and it became apparent pretty quickly that that was a mistake.

She heard a drunkard call out something crude and unrepeatable, and her face flushed with shame and humiliation as she hurried to the other side of the room, where she could see a bar. Some of the other patrons laughed at the other man's comments but most of them, there were barely a dozen to begin with, continued staring at their drinks, or snored into the table. No one was behind the counter, however, and she blew some rogue hair out of her face as she looked around.

That was when she caught sight of him, a huge behemoth of a man coming towards her. She shrank away, aware that if this man wanted to take something from her, to hurt her, she would be powerless to stop him. She was about ready to hit him with her satchel as he paused a few paces from her, and she flinched when he thrust his hand out to her. He laughed then, and introduced himself. He was Jamie, dubbed Giant by the local Dwarves, and owned (as he put it) 'this mighty fine establishment'. She shook his hand, and he apologised for frightening the 'pretty little lady'.

His daughter, a surprisingly small girl from the size of her father, was named Brienne, and was instructed to take Belle up to a room for the night. She could pay on the morrow, when her thoughts were clear. 'On the morrow' ended up as late afternoon, as Belle got a proper night (and day)'s rest from all her walking. She wandered down a short while after awakening, briefly considering the soft deerskin breeches and accompanying ensemble, with the tall boots and the red gloves. She stuck with the dress, however, and was welcomed to the tavern area by Brienne when she reached it.

The innkeeper's daughter was Belle's height and more sturdily set, her blonde hair leaping around her head in an untameable tangle. Her dress was simple, brown and of the peasant-cut, but well made and sturdy. With her she had a tin serving tray, currently holding a good half-dozen jugs of ale. She directed Belle to a table just off the edge of the room, where she was soon joined by Jamie, who was far less intimidating in full daylight. Without harsh candlelight to distort them, his features were soft and kind, and it seemed his daughter had inherited his blonde hair. His eyes were spirited and brown, like his daughter's, and his hands were large and worn from hard labour. He told her she was welcome to stay as long as she wished, and gave her a fair price for the room. She was soon brought a hot meal and a drink to wash it down, and then she was left alone, her spool of thread some three inches shorter.

She sorely wished she had taken her book down with her, but soon began to enjoy the sport of people-watching. She caught sight of Brienne's mother, a woman with long unruly hair, darker than night, whose eyes danced as she laughed at some tale her husband wove. She saw the man from the night before, looking a little put out that she had ignored him. And in the late evening, because she had been day dreaming and staring at her hands that long, she saw the Dwarves. There were about twelve of varying ages, each wearing hats of different kinds, and a large group of them sat at the table by hers. Although she was, at this point, trying to imagine what Rumple's son might look like, she did manage to catch half of a conversation the two closest to her were having.

Unable to keep a straight face any longer at their confusion, she barged into their conversation, and cheerfully informed the younger dwarf that he was in love. The poor man soon came to sit at her table, and as she giggled at his description of their meeting (and tried to ignore the raw pain of Rumplestiltskin) she sent him off to find his love, his hope, and his dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

**Beasts and curses go together**

* * *

The next day, since she preferred the soft tavern beds to the forest floor, Belle remembered to take her book down, and spent the first half of the morning reading and drinking ale. Her book, or rather, _Brienne's_ book, was one she had read before, but had thoroughly enjoyed. The Princess was just about to meet her Prince Charming, but she wouldn't know it was him until chapter three. At this point, however, she was distracted by a travelling swordsman and his company, who were searching for men to help them find and slay a deadly beast. She watched as he talked, riling up the men. A part of her wanted to join their expedition.

Her attention was caught by a voice next to her table at the edge of the room that said "Looking for an adventure?" She looked away from the group to find the dwarf from the night before grinning sheepishly at her. "Dreamy, right?" Dwarves had the most ridiculous names. He confirmed that that was him, and joined her at her table. Then he told her he and his love were running away together, and she smiled at the thought, happy for him. But soon enough her focus was drawn back to the rowdy group, and when the Dwarf suggested she sign up, she told him she was safer sticking to her books. Somehow, however, he changed her mind, and as a parting gift he presented her with pure fairy dust.

By the time the noonday sun had risen Belle was sat with the men on the men's wagon. She had payed Brienne for her food and boarding, and had returned the book she had borrowed. Now she was reading her _own_ book, one about various creatures of the realms. It had a very convenient page on the Yaoguai, and the fact that it was in another tongue didn't bother her in the slightest. She understood a great many languages.

The cart was a crooked one, and she felt every stone they passed over in the six hour journey. The horses, beginning at a steady trot and now at a stately walk, were flecked with foam and whip marks, their bay coats suggesting cruel treatment. The men in the cart were few, and took little interest in her, save for the speaker at the tavern. Throughout the journey he had spoken rudely to her, or rather about her, and she found herself becoming quite irritated. She could sense another block headed comment coming on, and sure enough there it was. They weren't scribbles, they were another _language_.

Not wanting to give the men the satisfaction of intimidating her, however, when they asked she directed them to the lake, knowing that the Yaoguai preferred mountainous habitats above all others. So she was only slightly offended when the man with the large hat kicked her off the cart, and threw her book after her. She smirked and bade them farewell, and turned to find the Yaouguai's cave.

Trekking through the forest was a tiring business, particularly when going up hill. Thankfully the land was a dry one, and the lack of rainfall allowed the land to be sturdy and secure, so Belle only tripped once or twice on her way. When she found the cave most likely to be the Yaoguai's, she pulled her small dagger from her belt and moved forward. Her satchel had been left at the tavern with her dress, cloak and rope, and all she had now was the bread, one of the water-skins, the dagger and her book, and the clothes on her back.

She crept towards the cave, praying that the creature was sleeping, but she soon discovered that was not the case. A twig snapped beneath her boot, and almost immediately there was a reaction. A roar rang out from within the cave, and she turned on her heel and ran. Mere seconds later she could hear heavy footfalls from behind her, and knew the beast chased her. She tripped onto the floor just in time for the beast to miss her back with its raking claws. And then, as the fiery creature came back for her, an arrow struck it in the side.

The arrow came from an ornately dressed warrior, a slender figure in black and red armour with a plumed helmet, and a beautiful bow. She closed her eyes in thanks as the Yaoguai roared and departed, and raised herself from the ground. Her breath shook as the figure jogged towards her, removing their helmet, and as she straightened she was surprised to find the warrior was a woman. When the woman rudely informed her that she had ruined her hunt, she couldn't help but point out she had tracked the beast in a day, and with only her book for assistance. The woman was unimpressed, and warned her away. She stalked past, and her red cloak soon disappeared into the mist.

The next day, after Belle had finally found her way to a village, she was drawing water up from a deep well with a bucket. Her water-skin had been punctured when she fell, and she had not had a drink in almost twenty-four hours. As the bucket reached the top of the well she felt a hand on her shoulder, and before she knew it she'd dropped the rope and only her hands were stopping her falling into the well. Her feet had been lifted into the air. A face appeared on either side of her, and she recognised two of the men she had sent to the lake. They did not look happy to see her.

She tried to convince them to release her, but it was to no avail. The man who shoved her off the wagon was sneering at her and the other man, Claude, had a hold of her leg and was moving his fingers in soft circles across her thigh. But then suddenly, thank the Gods, something hit the hatted man across the throat, and he fell to the ground. Claude released her to help his companion, and that was when Belle saw the soldier. She strode confidently towards the well, there to protect her. Claude drew a knife and lunged, but the woman was quicker and soon he was disarmed and lying prone on the floor. It was then the woman's helmet fell off, but she didn't let that stop her as she knocked the man out. She moved to her feet to draw her sword and warn the men away, and then went to speak to Belle. It seemed she had warmed up to the shorter brunette, who counted that as a victory. Unfortunately, it seemed the woman was injured. But they continued all the same, Belle now invited to track the Yaoguai with her.

Hours later, when darkness fell, the two of them had finally found the Yaoguai, but it seemed Mulan could not continue. After walking such a long way, her leg injury had only worsened. Now Belle would have to slay the Yaoguai. Mulan believed she had the warrior's spirit and the ability, upon finding something worth fighting for, to never give up and to fight for it. So she untied her sword, and handed it over. As Belle stumbled down the hill, she kept her mind off the beast by admiring the sword sheath. The discs on it were very nice, but this one here was loose and... ah. She was out in the open now, in the same field as the monster. She took a deep breath and yelled, loud as she could, for the beast to hear and come to her. She regretted it instantly as it ran to her, faster than she could ever hope to be, the acrid smell of smoke filling her nostrils. She barely made it to the village in time, and ran right across the square just to run into some kind of water collection system. She hummed in irritation, and her voice was drowned out by the roar of the creature. It had found her.

Its fiery eyes stared her down, its mane shifting and growing with its every breath. It seemed its very soul was aflame. And that was when she realised her advantage. She drew the sword and, as the beast leaped at her, she brought the blade down on the fragile wood of the irrigation system. It burst out with the force of a flood, drenching the creature and dousing its flame. Belle stumbled forwards, sword raised in her hand, and watched the pitiful creature - did she truly have to kill it? She frowned, and saw that the beast was writing, actually writing, something. She twisted her neck to read from another angle, and was surprised to find she could understand what it wrote. "Jiù... save me..." She immediately sheathed the sword, and removed the fairy dust. What was the harm in trying? She upended the pouch, and sprinkled its contents onto the beast's head. Pink smoke shrouded the creature, and when it cleared before her lay a man. She had broken his curse.

She helped him to his feet, hoping the curser was not Rumple, and discovered the culprit in fact was a sorceress called Maleficent. It seemed the man was in her debt, and she asked if he would help her bring Mulan to the village. He agreed, and she made the trek back up the hill. When they reached the top Mulan was reading her book, but soon enough traded it back her her sword. Belle was happy to introduce her two new friends to one another, and as they left realised what Mulan had said was true. She had found something worth fighting for, and now she would fight for it. "I'm coming back Rumple."


	4. Chapter 4

**Toxic Queens and angry beasts**

* * *

"Isn't that sweet." The venomous voice flitted through the air, and of course, Belle should have known it wouldn't be that easy. The smile fell from her face and she fell back a half step as she turned to find the woman from the road before her, on a large black horse, and backed by an impressive entourage of guards and generally unpleasant people, the latter term referring to Claude and his hatted friend. Seemed they'd sold her out. She regarded the dark woman, surely the Queen Rumplestiltskin had gotten so worked up about, and as discretely as she could started backing away. It wasn't enough to be quiet however, speed and strength were also required, and she couldn't exactly put those to use when a man twice her size had his meaty hands around her arms. She was dragged across the forest floor, her boots making deep furrows in the earth, and as she was dragged she forced her small dagger from her belt. As the giant man pushed her into a rickety cage rigged to be pulled by a man, presumably him, she finally worked her dagger free, and just before her last leg was completely in she stabbed him in the hand, lunging forwards as she had been shoved in backwards with a strength and speed she hadn't known she possessed.

The man released both her and the door to the cage, more in shock than in pain, and Belle took the opportunity to shove the barred door into the man's face and leap out. Her feet found little purchase on the loose leaves of the forest floor, but there was enough to prevent her from falling, or sliding into the reach of one of the many guards. She was able to regain her balance, and immediately used her momentum to make a mad dash past as many of the men as she could. She managed to stay out of the reach (with that speed that had come to her only recently) of all of them until she reached her target; a seemingly abandoned horse, whose back she leaped on. Seemingly abandoned, because only when she was in the saddle and preparing to urge the horse forwards did she see the bearded man by its head, holding the reins. She stared at him, wide eyed for a brief second, certain of her impending doom, when the man released the reins, took a half step back and gave her a small nod.

She waited only a moment longer, then squeezed the horse forwards with her heel. The animal barged straight into the bearded man, who promptly fell to the ground and acted as though to recapture his steed. She kept going, however, and it seemed the Queen had brought horses bred for speed; the creature was racing through the trees, encouraged by the sounds of a chase behind it, and leaped over logs, crushing the brush under-hoof. She had considered going back to find Phillip and Mulan, but felt quite sure that the dark Queen would not hesitate to slaughter both of them before they could so much as blink. This was confirmed as blistering heat formed behind her head, and it was only a brief stumble from her ride into a shallow ditch that stopped her from getting more than a few singed hairs. She wondered why the woman didn't just magic her to stop, or break the horse's legs. Either would work. Perhaps magic's price was just too high.

She shook herself out of it, and tried to figure out which direction they were going in. She didn't really recognise the area but... wait, that signpost said the fairy dust mines were less than ten miles away. How far had she already travelled? How long had they been running? She couldn't tell, but surely that distance would have taken at least a half hour. Was it normal for it to feel like 5 minutes? She glanced back. The group chasing her was much smaller now, and it seemed the dark woman _was_ trying to stop her with magic, but was failing. She blinked turning back, and that signpost said _two_ miles. What was going on? Her throat was burning, her arms felt like they were being clawed to pieces, and her head... oh, she felt so dizzy! She suddenly recalled the cliff she had walked beside the morning before, taking the opportunity to read outside for once. Surely they were near to that now? Would anybody mind if she led the Queen to it, shoved her over the edge to her death?

Belle shook herself again, this time in horror. Never had she wanted to harm somebody before! At least, not somebody other than Gaston, who she more often than not got the urge to slap. The black spots reappeared before her eyes and she slumped, the lack of tension in her legs causing her foot to lose the stirrup on the horse's left side. She released the reins with her left hand to guide her foot back to the stirrup, and it was in that moment her horse skidded to a stop. She, however, kept moving, straight through the air. And down. Very far down. The cliffs, more of a wide rift to be honest, had apparently been formed by an accident with fairy dust, and were very sheer and very sudden. Over time water had collected at the bottom, and now there ran a powerful river between the cliff faces. The sound of it first reached Belle's ears when she passed out, the world going dark and a burning sensation covering every inch of her skin. The river was the last thing she heard, and a very sharpened image of the Queen was the last thing she saw, the colours merging and leaping like an odd kaleidoscope of vibrancy.

* * *

Whilst Belle had been traipsing through the mountains, giving advice, saving beasts and generally running for her life, Rumplestiltskin had been moping. If asked he would insist he was fine, and would flamboyantly lead you away from the Great Hall. If you entered said hall, however, you would find the cabinet in pieces, the drapes tattered, the artifacts strewn, and even the infamous wheel splintered. In fact, the only thing in the entire room, and indeed much of the castle, that remained intact was a single porcelain teacup, resting on the standing half of the considerably-smaller-than-it-is-supposed-to-be great table. So he was moping.

Partly he felt betrayed. He had invited a woman into his home, albeit as his Caretaker, and she had torn his trust to shreds. He had given her his secrets, and she had given them to the Queen. He had handed her his heart and she had crushed it in her fist. And she had kissed him, and in that tried to kill him. And therein lay the problem. She hadn't just kissed him; he had kissed her back. He loved her, and she hadn't loved him, had never loved him, and had played him for his power. That wasn't true. The spinner in him knew. That was the worst part. He'd loved her and she'd loved him, and he'd thrown her out like she was worthless garbage, or a stray kitten when it was raining. He had possibly, and quite probably, driven her away forever. And that killed him. She meant more to him than his power. Just not more than his son.

So to keep his mind off the betrayal (by Belle, but mostly by himself to his son) he decided to explore the odd feelings he'd been having. Not emotional feelings, more like physical stirrings. No not like that. More like... like his skin was being peeled away, and replaced with someone else's, like a large part of him was being torn away and handed on. Common sense told him to ignore it, but curiosity told him it would be interesting. So he explored what was going on, and avoided thinking about Belle for a good three days. During this time his arms and face burned, and he smashed things when they got in his way. His magic was also a little off and uncoordinated, and when a woman called him to make a ridiculous deal (in which she asked to be free, never to be caged again - a jar of honey doesn't pay for that, even if they're enchanted bees) he turned her into a bird and not a snail, and threw her in the air. If he _had_ turned her into a snail, he would still have thrown her into the air. It was that thought that helped convince him he was not going soft.

But after those three days his searches began to result in blackouts. He'd get ready to make tea, would search the odd stirrings whilst he was waiting for the water to boil (magic tea tasted like dirt and ogre spit. Which he had, unfortunately, consumed before for sustenance), and would then find himself in the Great Hall with an empty teacup and the lemony taste on his tongue. He was tired of the spots behind his eyes, however, and his less-than-perfect senses, so he decided to figure out what in the seven hells this poison was. So, some five or so days after Belle had left (he had _not_ been counting) he stood in the Great Hall, beside his splintered table, and began to focus. He poured all his magic into it, feeling his skin begin to burn across his entire body, as though a thousand Regina-fingernails were being dragged over him. He blacked out several times, time escaping him, and the dark spots returned to cloud his vision. He had the sudden sensation of falling, and then the world went black.


	5. Chapter 5

**Taverns and tower rooms**

* * *

Belle didn't feel the moment she hit the water, or anything else, for a good few hours, and when she came to she could see Brienne's face before her. She seemed to be trying to get her to swallow a mouthful of water. Belle complied, and that was the moment the young girl met her gaze. And promptly backed away, making the evil eye at her, warding herself with the common hand gestures from all forms of evil. Belle frowned, and Brienne screamed. The sound ricocheted around Belle's head, and she tried to focus her mind on the situation. First, her hearing. The tavern girl was surely not the only one in the room; Belle could hear a great many voices muttering around her, some curses and pleas for rescue, some vulgar terms of the unpleasant variety. Next, her sight. She seemed to be back in the Dwarf Tavern (the Dusted Jellyfish? Was that its name?), and could see Brienne hiding behind her mother on the other side of the room. Inside dark shadows that no longer hid things from her. As her vision began to focus, she could see some of the speakers in the room; a good few Dwarves, a drunkard or two, and that there might be an honest-to-Gods fairy. She didn't care to analyse the smells in the area; they were bad before whatever this was began.

Skipping smells and tastes, Belle directed her focus into feeling. Her skin no longer burned, and the dizziness had passed, but now her whole back, bones and all, seemed to be burning instead, and her arms felt like they were being ripped out of their sockets. At a warm contact on her shoulder and a sudden jerk of her body forwards, and she realised that was exactly what was happening. Something cold began to encircle her wrists, and with a start she realised it was chains. She began to struggle, but it was to no avail. Soon enough she saw why. The 'Giant' from the first night, the one who crept towards her and damn near gave her a heart attack, moved into her line of sight. "Hello again little lady. Thought you could fool us, bewitch us 'nto being your minions?" She stared at Jamie uncomprehendingly, utterly confused. The drunkard that had leered at her stumbled forwards and slurred out best as he could: "What we gon' do with the Demon, Innkeep? We gon' kill 'er? 'Ave some fun?" His 'n' drew out in a long moan, and he slumped into a chair someone thoughtfully (or from long practice) placed behind him. Belle felt chills down her spine, and looked imploringly at Jamie. What was going on? Someone shoved her from behind, jarring the shoulder they had dislocated in an effort to chain her, and the pain, though somewhat subdued, was still there and burning. Her hair fell in her face with the movement, and she was surprised to find it several shades darker, and a little more unruly. She supposed it had become tangled in her fall (how in the names of the Gods did she survive that?), although it no longer felt wet.

At some point when her focus, or perhaps consciousness, drifted, the men had come to a decision, perhaps a hay to test for capacity for pain, or whether or not she bled. "What'd be the best way to do it though? Don't look like no knife would b'able to cut through them scales." Scales, what? "P'raps we chop its hand?" "That don't stop the scale problem Carter." She didn't have scales, they could chop her hand off just fine, much as she would prefer it if she didn't. "Mayhaps we could pull a toof? One at the back p'raps?" "Don't like the look o' them front ones though. They lookin' mighty sharp." "How 'bout one-a dem from the fron'?. Don't look like she could bite us too easy wit' dem." Belle eyed each of the men before her, suspicious and wary and not seeing a way out. She contemplated just leaping for the door and making a run for it, but barely had the chance to prepare her muscles for the exertion before Jamie had her jaw in his hand, and was forcing open her mouth. He was kneeling at her level, which made her realise she was on her knees, and someone had handed him a tool for the... extraction.

At first she truly didn't think he would go through with it, but as she took a second look at the hard line of his mouth and the heavy crease between his eyebrows, she realised he most definitely would. He put two fingers in her mouth like you would for a horse's bit, and clamped the tool (she sincerely hoped someone hadn't decided to invent something for the sole purpose of stealing teeth) around the decided-upon tooth. Her breathing became heavy, both from fear and from fighting the urge to bite the man's entire hand off. Tears began to stream down her face, and she realised the odd keening sound she heard came from the back of her own throat. That didn't stop the barkeep. He tightened his grip on the tool, flexed his fingers, and pulled. She screamed in agony, in rage, and tried from instinct to pull away. The pain seemed to increase tenfold, and suddenly it was as though someone had poured ice water down her spine. Something started to cloud her vision (an actual cloud it seemed, a collection of sapphire-blue smoke), and everything before her began to change. The last thing she saw of the tavern was the stern faced fairy (and she saw where the place got its name, but that didn't stop the dress from being horrendous) trying in vain to pull Jamie away.

* * *

When Rumplestiltskin came to he was lying on the floor of the Great Hall, and it seemed _this_ blackout, unlike the others, had prevented his body from functioning. It had been years since he'd last passed out. The Dark One did not 'pass out'. He hauled himself to his feet with a monumental effort, and it was only when he stood up straight that he realised he was kneeling on his floor. His right knee had collapsed under the weight of his body, the joint suffering from an injury he had suffered years before, one that no longer existed since he became the Dark One. He slowly looked down at his hands in absolute horror, and yelled a curse when he saw his soft flesh. Human flesh. What the devil was going on?

He tried to stand again, tried several times, but failed each time. In the end he dragged himself across the floor, thankful the doors to the Hall were slightly ajar. He crawled pitifully across the floor and across several rooms, his knee screaming at him to stop, until he reached the winding staircase to his tower room. With the walls this close together he could use them for support, and was able to steadily force himself to his feet, and then up the stairs, one at a time. He didn't stop when his knee felt like it was going to cave in, didn't stop when he retched by a window, or when he slipped on an uneven step. He made it to the top, collapsing against the heavy door, his full weight barely forcing it open. He moved across the floor like a worm, moving his good leg every few seconds to force himself that extra inch or so, his hands being skinned on the stone, his torn and bloodied fingernails digging into the cold. Eventually he reached his target; a loose flagstone on the floor.

It took all the strength he had to haul it out of its space, all of his focus to reach into the stone behind it, his hand passing through with the aid of the magic he had placed on the block. He felt relief only when his hand met the hilt of a dagger, and steadily pulled it out of its prison of rock. It had not left this space in over 300 years, not since he came here, not for anybody. He forced himself to sit and calmed his breath, his lungs begging for some respite. His breath remained short and erratic regardless as he sat pathetic and hunched over on the floor. With a shaking hand he flipped the Kris dagger in his grasp and read the name engraved on the silver blade. Five letters to its previous fifteen. Swirling and looping where his had been angular and harsh.

B-E-L-L-E.

With a snarl he tightened his grip on the dagger, blinked back tears from this ultimate betrayal, and lifted the weapon into the air. Repeated the words as he had all those years ago, after the fire in the Duke's castle. "Dark One, I summon thee!"

A kiss should not cost so much.


	6. Chapter 6

**Accusations and commands**

* * *

When Zoso had been summoned the air went cold and he had been filled with a sudden sense of dread, the smell of sulfur filling the air. With Belle it seemed to become warmer, but only marginally so, and he felt calm inside. The air became filled with the scent of dust and roses, something he had long ago termed simply as 'Belle'. He expected her to appear in a plume of dramatically dark smoke, standing tall and in some hideous dress of Regina's, one that complimented her new scales. Something black, or maybe green. What he didn't expect was smoke of cornflower blue to swirl from the floor (his never swirled, merely _poofed_), and for her to appear kneeling and in chains. She was in the red deerskin outfit he had provided, her hair loose from its rough braid. Her hands were chained behind her back, both shoulders dislocated, and someone had weighted down her feet. Her head was bowed, blood dripping, presumably from her lips.

He had expected her to be snarling and snapping with all the rage of a cornered Dark One, especially now that she was wrapped in chains, but he found himself surprised. As he watched her he realised he could hear her sobs, and when she looked up it took his breath away. Somehow she managed to pull off the scales in a way he and Zoso never had, and it was still her beautiful face that gazed back at him. Her eyes were, if possible, even bluer than before, and her lips remained rosy and full. They were slightly parted and it was that, mixed with the tears on her cheeks and the desperation in her expression, that took his breath away. He knelt down, for the moment ignoring his knee, to her level, and reached out to grip her face. She flinched where she had never flinched from him before, and it was odd that this brave (and now powerful) woman would flinch from him, a cowardly, powerless spinner. But with her face no longer moving her could see that somebody had removed one of her teeth, a canine, and that was why she was bleeding.

But then he shook himself out of it. This was the woman that stole his power from him with a kiss, the one who planned with his greatest enemy to kill him! He released her face roughly, shoving it away from him and, ignoring her hurt and shocked expression said "Transport us both to the Great Hall immediately." She blinked at him, lost, but her magic was already following the command of the dagger. It literally _danced_ around them, smothering them in blue, and in no time at all they were down in the hall. He stared at her, trying for emotionless and failing miserably, and instructed her to remove her chains, and rise. She did so, not understanding how she was free and he told her, out of pity mostly, but told himself it would have benefit, that she could fix her arms. With a harsh _crack_ that resounded twice, her arms dangled more naturally at her sides. As punishment, however, he said, with the dagger outstretched, "You may not heal any of your other injuries or ailments without my expressed permission, and (because it was important he got this point across) you must heal any and all injuries I myself receive, including illnesses, and must not, under any circumstance, cause me any yourself." She nodded numbly at him, swaying on her feet.

She was utterly confused. What had happened? She had been at the _Jellyfish_, and now she was here, in the Great Hall. In fact, only a moment ago she was in his tower workroom. He healed her arms with his magic, and she was too dazed to hear what he said next, but from the tingling feeling down her spine she felt that it was a command to be followed. She wished he would heal her legs and her back too, because it felt like she'd hit water at a hundred miles an hour. And her mouth, because she was certain she had one less tooth than she should. She flicked her tongue over it, and found the gap. It was becoming difficult to remain upright, and as her knees buckled she wished she had a chair to sit on. It seemed Rumple had heard her request, since she didn't make it as far as the floor. The man himself now stood gazing at her, a dagger in his hand, and it took her a long moment to figure out what was different about him. "What happened to your scales? You aren't shiny anymore." Damn. That last part was supposed to stay in her head, and the whole thing had been slurred. His nostril twitched and his expression shifted, either in irritation or amusement, she couldn't tell which. He asked the room, or maybe the dagger, for a chair, and the one she always liked to see him sat in appeared behind him. He seemed surprised that the castle had provided his most comfortable chair. He sat regardless, finally at her level once more, and shifted closer.

"Don't you know the results of your own little trick, dearie? Didn't Regina tell you what that potion would do?" His expression was hard, but she couldn't call it cruel, not when his eyes were so soft. "Trick? What potion? Is Regina the dark woman with the cruel eyes?" He scowled at her, and grabbed at her hands. "Whatever it was you put on your lips, dearie, to steal my magic. And don't act like you don't know _exactly_ who Regina is." She tried to pull away, but he managed to pull her hands up to her face, and she was startled by the contrast. One pair was large and rough, but softly skinned, the other small and delicate, but covered in pebbly scales. She'd never been this close to his hands before, or had such an opportunity to study his scales. It was with a start that she realised the pebbled hands were hers; it only became obvious when the others dropped away into his lap. His skin was completely human and hers, hers had more ridges than a crocodile. She blinked up at him, frowning. "The Dark One's curse is yours to bear now dearie. All the power in the world." She blinked at him again. Curse, what? Was this what her kiss had done, stolen his power away? She hadn't know that was what would happen. She thought the darkness would go, but the scales and the magic would remain. Wasn't that what he looked like? And now _she_ was the Dark One?

"Why do you have that dagger?" That seemed like a safe question to ask, and she eyed the thing with mistrust. He waved it about before her. "Oh Regina didn't tell you about this then? This is the dagger that controls the Dark One, the most powerful weapon in the world. If you'd have stabbed me with it, I would have died and my magic would have become yours. You could have used it to control me, but now I use it to control you, your magic, and your actions." Belle moved from confusion, to anger, and into disappointment, loss and betrayal. "So you've basically stolen my free will, just because I kissed you?" He seemed surprised at her summary of the recent events, and gave a flourish of his hands, much like he used to. "Pretty much, dearie." He gave a grin, but it wasn't as harsh as it used to be. He didn't seem to mean it as much. She thought everything over for a moment, then said, in as even a tone as she could manage: "So why don't you kiss me again? If True Love's Kiss took your magic, then surely it could take mine too?" She'd barely reached the end of her sentence before he'd lunged off the edge of his seat, and was stood with his weight on his left leg, and the crooked dagger at her throat. "Oh that wasn't True Love's Kiss dearie. That was whatever magic or potion you and Regina put on your lips to transfer my magic to you. You probably want me to kiss you so whatever is left kills me." The way he leaned towards her reminded her of the moment he shook her, and she leaned back a little. She, foolishly, blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

* * *

"Why don't you just stab me with the dagger then?" He inwardly winced, but something told him that she caught it. "Because, dearie, controlling the Dark One is just as good as _being_ the Dark One. Besides, I promised Bae I would break the curse if I found a way, and this solves that problem perfectly." Did she really think he'd kill her? He couldn't hurt her. He'd cursed at himself for days just for shaking her a little. He stared into her eyes, shockingly blue for ones contaminated by the curse, and like those of a cat, and he could practically see the cogs turning as she analysed what he'd said. He realised his mistake when she made to speak, and a shard of ice hit his heart. "Was Bae your son's name?"

He was immediately leaning back in his chair, glaring at her, wondering what he should do. He ran his finger over the blade, forming a plan, and a set of rules for Belle. "You will never speak that name to anyone for as long as this dagger is mine; you will tell no one I have a son unless I say you can. If, and when, we find my son, you will help me protect him for as long as you live. And yes, dearie, I say we because _you_ are going to do whatever it takes to help me complete this curse and get him back to me." She stared at him a moment longer, and managed to focus on the part he wanted her to ignore. "Curse..?" He sighed deeply, and commanded her to go to her dungeon room. "But.." "Now, Belle!" With a glower she disappeared in another twirl of smoke, back to where she belonged.


	7. Chapter 7

**Keeping up appearances**

* * *

Belle found herself back in the dungeon room, unable to resist the heavy blocks of ice that crept down her spine at the command. When she got there, however, she felt the ice melt away. She considered what Rumplestiltskin had said, and found he had told her new-found magic to take her to her dungeon room. He said nothing about her having to stay there. Very experimentally she closed her eyes and focused her mind's eye on the library. Air swirled around her feet, and when she reopened her eyes she was there. Stood on the table in the center, but there. It seemed the commands had to be exact, or she could find ways around them. She hopped down, nimble until her knee buckled, and made her way over to a bookshelf. She might be here awhile, and so might as well make use of the time. It was then she noticed the pages strewn across the cold floor, and the splintered door thrown off its hinges and scattered down the staircase. Tears bit at her eyes as she forced them down and stared at this, her sanctuary now in tatters. She began to peruse the covers on the floor, looking for something about magic, anything. She tried not to focus on the cracked spines, the crumpled pages, and searched for something that might help her clean all this up, or at least understand what was going on.

She carefully heaped the ruined books together, and finally found a book that might be useful (_Magical theory, Volume II; Nature's Magic_). She lifted it in gentle palms and, by chance, glanced out the window. The first thing she saw was the comforting view that she had gazed at many times while she had been here. Then she saw the dimmer stars she had never managed to pick out before. Then she saw her reflection. It was faded and unclear, but unmistakably her, even with the changes. Her hair _was_ a few shades darker, and more heavily twisted, and her eyes were an even brighter blue, the pupils narrowed into slits. Her skin was mottled but had more gold than Rumple's had, and the scales were more delicate around her eyes and nose. Her teeth were slightly sharper, and stained, but overall not too unpleasant, though there was one missing. She ran her tongue over the soft spot again, and wished she could place her tooth back with magic. Ice danced down her spine; she had been forbidden against such an action. Her hands, now empty since she had dropped the book on the floor at the sight of her own reflection, were taloned and scaled as well (her gloves were missing - she supposed the people at the tavern had taken them, to inspect her hands), and the pads of her fingers as soft as they'd always been. The callouses from her hard labour around the castle were gone. Curious, and hesitant to gaze at her reflection for much longer, she picked the book up off the floor and went to the small cot that had been hers whenever she slept in the library (which was often). She set the book, and herself, down on the feather-filled mattress, and carefully took off her right boot. Her feet, dainty as always, were also scaled, and she was happy to find her toenails were no sharper than before, and only slightly discoloured. She found herself rubbing her thumb over them, willing the discolouration away, as though that would work.

It seemed it did. Her toenails were the right colour again. Perhaps that was how magic worked? She focused on the room around her, and managed to clear up the books without with a thought, reattaching their covers and ordering them back on the shelves. She turned her focus to the door, and pieced it back together and to its correct place. Unfortunately, the exertion made her dizzy, and she remembered what Rumple always used as an excuse for his expensive deals. _"Magic always comes with a price!"_ No wonder he made others pay it. She was exhausted. She lay down, figuring she had nothing better to do, and that book could wait, and closed her eyes. She awoke when the sky was light again, and ice was being poured down her spine again. It seemed she was wanted elsewhere. She directed her magic to follow the command, not liking the way her body got colder when she ignored the instruction in favour of standing up. When the blue smoke cleared the Great Hall was the same as it had been, glass shattered and all over the place, all her hard work undone. Rumplestiltskin, her master again, was pacing with the aid of a staff, and he had a limp she had never noticed before. He seemed worked up about something, but was ignoring her presence.

As she watched him stumble, first this way and then that, she bit her lip in anticipation, forgetting her teeth were sharper than before. She wondered if magic could heal her, and tried, but then remembered Rumplestiltskin's command. _"You may not heal any of your injuries without my permission."_ Dammit. There was another one though, one she hadn't heard but her mind had recorded. _"You must heal any injuries I myself receive." _Well now that she knew it was there she had to follow the dagger's command. She focused on his leg and, as his left lifted off the floor, she sent her magic to heal it. He stumbled when it came down then, expecting, but not experiencing, pain. As he gazed down in confusion she focused on the hands that had dropped the staff; worn and bloody, the fingernails broken and ragged. She healed those too. It was then that he registered her presence and stalked over, still clad in his leather and dramatic, high-collared shirts. "What are you doing, dearie?" She stared back defiantly, tilting her chin to look him in the eye. "I vaguely recall you instructing me to heal any injuries you receive. I am merely doing what was asked of me." He narrowed his eyes at her, but, sensing no dishonesty, gave an imperceptible nod of thanks. Ah, well. She'd take what she could get.

* * *

"We have a problem dearie." He stared at her, still surprised she had healed him. Why would she bother? "My plans are not yet complete, but I can not send you out as the Dark One for people would surely come to kill me. I myself need to negotiate my remaining deals." To be honest, he could just send Belle out looking like him, but he didn't think she would be able to do a good impression of him. And he didn't want her soul to be tainted by the evil his remaining deals required. Perhaps he was just going soft, but he wanted Belle to stay the way she was. She seemed surprised by his definition of a problem, clearly wondering why she couldn't go make the deals, or why they should be done. He expected her to question him, when she opened her mouth but she merely said, "How about this?" And she stepped back (his proximity was clearly making her uncomfortable, and even with her being the scaly one he was still the most monstrous) and waved her arms a little. He was immediately shrouded in magic, swirling and soft and blue, and when it cleared he had scales again. He frowned down at his taloned hands, waved them around a little. He felt the same, but did not look the same. This was the same enchantment he had used on Regina to turn her into a smelly peasant. How in the name of the Gods had Belle managed this advanced feat of magic?

He could hardly tell her he was impressed, though, so he just gave another nod of thanks, and experimented with hand twirls. "Now, dearie, we need to solve the problem of my lack of magic." "Couldn't you just command me with the dagger to do whatever magic you need doing?" "Unfortunately, dearie, the dagger's victim only responds to spoken commands, and I can hardly narrate what I need you to do in front of all those desperate souls now, can I?" His Belle pondered the problem for a moment before she lit up, proclaiming "Perhaps you could command me to respond to the requests that you think?" Dammit, she was good at finding loopholes in the dagger's laws. Had she found the weapon whilst he was still cursed, he would have been doomed. More doomed. Anyway. He lifted the weapon, always close at hand, lest she try to steal it, to test that theory. "Dark One, I command you to respond to all the dagger's instructions, spoken or otherwise." Belle instantly shivered and, to see if it worked, commanded her with his find to tell him why she had. She shivered again, and the words were forced out of her. "The chains the dagger holds over me are cold, and burn through my skin." Her eyes were sad as she gazed at him, and he realised they had been sad since he had first summoned her; he had just been ignoring it.

He regretted, a little, the choice he had made in securing her free will to his, but his son had to be found again, and there was nothing for it. She would have to do as he commanded. "Well now that's sorted, its time we practice your magic!" Belle's shoulders drooped but it had to be done. And so he had her summon all of the books he had on magical theory, and set her to reading. It would be months until she was ready for the more serious deals, the ones more closely linked to the curse where he would need her nearby to use her magic on instinct (with powerful magic and heightened senses, she would see so much more than he would), but that was okay. They had time for that. They had time for everything.

* * *

In the following months, about four or so, the two got used to being around one another again. Rumplestiltskin continued to control Belle with the dagger; never asking, always commanding. When she finished each book he had her practice what had been learnt, but ensured she maintained the state of the castle, having her clean it all by hand. He swore her to secrecy and forbade her from using scrying magic, and told her under no circumstances was she to go near her father. In truth, he didn't trust her at all. Whatever Belle had been like, he was sure the version of her under the curse would be _very_ different. Belle, as expected, was exhausted. As the Dark One she needed very little sleep, but Rumple was working her to the bone to learn as much magic as possible, mostly learning how to control and manipulate certain spells. She still had no idea what he was working towards, what it was, this 'Curse' that would find him his son. She was mostly exhausted from all of the fighting, though. Not fighting a physical entity, such as Rumplestiltskin. No, she was fighting herself. Or more to the point, her curse. She saw now why Rumple had been so cruel and mocking all of the time. The magic was a bitter thing, and made her feel sour within her very soul. She feared what was becoming of her, and so each day tried to force the darker urges away from herself. According to the one of the books she had found in the library, the first major thing a person did with their magic (such as stealing or saving a life) would determine what kind of magic would come easiest to them. Belle had used her magic with kindness and good intention, fixing the library and healing Rumplestiltskin, but she was fighting the curse of the Dark One for a grip on her own sanity. At the moment she was losing. She wondered, as she sat in her dungeon (instructed to _stay_ there this time), if a Dark One borne from True Love's kiss had any differing amount of darkness from one borne from the stab of that dagger. Was her magic any different from that which Rumple had had? Or was she doomed to be consumed by it also?


	8. Chapter 8

**Unwelcome visitors, unwelcome truths**

* * *

Things were getting very close to the end, and all he needed to kick start the final events was a royal, or someone with influence on the royals, to manipulate into 'giving something up' at a later date. If he could find one who would refuse to give up their child, he would be set. Belle was about ready to go out into the world on his deals; he would be the one making them, but he felt it important she see the final few steps, and have her magic close at hand. He'd had her search the lands for a childless royal in a desperate situation, but she had found none save for Snow White, who had her own uses. She had, however, found an unmarried royal (by the name of Thomas) and a whole list of young women who were in desperate situations, just waiting to be promoted to a royal status. Few were fair enough to demand a royal's attention, few smart enough to ask for help when they needed it (not from him, but he hoped from Snow and her husband, possibly Prince James, that was unknown at the moment), and even fewer likely to befriend, or be befriended by, the aforementioned Princess. In fact there was only one who fit the bill, and she had a fairy godmother to boot. A very irritating woman, nicknamed 'bop' by her peers, who he was sure very few would miss. She was terribly overbearing, obnoxious and loud. And she hummed. Really, _really_ tunelessly.

It was a few days before he planned to ambush this 'Cinderella' (he planned to deal for her child the day of Prince Thomas' upcoming ball) when he heard the front door sweep open and loud footsteps outside the hall. He immediately instructed Belle with his mind (they had been practicing that a lot, and she barely flinched at the contact or commands anymore) to turn herself, and her books, invisible. She complied, and out of the corner of his eye he watched her continue to read her book, this one her own and for relaxation. He had forbidden her early on from making herself invisible to him. She 'vanished' just in time, for bare moments later none other than _Regina_ barged through the doors, in another ridiculous dress of hers. "Flimsy locks." Her voice was high and mocking, and she gave a sing-song-y laugh. From the corner of his eye he saw Belle blanch, and flinch. It seemed her mistress had returned, and she didn't want to speak with her. "I have a deal to discuss." Dammit. Why couldn't people leave him alone? He was trying to work up the courage to get Belle to go with him to visit Cinderella, and all these interruptions were making it harder! "A certain... mermaid..." _Dammit woman, get your hands off that tea set!_ She was far too close to Belle, who was shaking in her seat and biting her lip to stop herself from making a sound. What had Regina done to her little minion that had her so afraid?

"I'm not dealing today." He was so tired, and not in the mood to leap around like a maniac. The magic Belle had shrouded him in was weak, since she lacked the strength for a stronger illusion, and too much movement or bother would disrupt it. And he was _really_ busy. _Get out of my castle already! _"Are you angry with me?" He was always angry with her. "What is it this time?" She was pouring tea now, and he couldn't help himself. A threat to her and a threat to Belle, both at the same time, and neither would cross him again. "Your little deception failed. You'll never be more powerful than me. You can keep trying, dearie, but you're never gonna beat me." He was staring at her in all his falsely-scaled glory, a thinly veiled threat laid out on the table, but still she crept towards him with a smile like the cat that got the canary. "Ohh, is this about that girl I met on the road?" A pout did _not_ look good on her. She laughed a cruel chuckle, and stalked back over to the table where Belle remained quaking in her seat. "What was her name? Margie? Verna?" Like her name could ever be so plain! She was "Belle", beautiful.

* * *

"Right." The voice from her nightmares was sharp, unpleasant as ever. "Well you can rest assured I had nothing to do with that tragedy." She heard Rumple turn from where she was sat, unable to see him through the high backed chair, and afraid to look back lest he see the darkness in her eyes. She was shaking in her chair, and it was all she could do not to lash out and crush the witch's trachea, or break her neck or gauge out her eyes. Her blood would be warm on her hands, and that dark light in her eyes would dim as she looked on surprised and- "What. Tragedy?" Rumple's voice was clipped and to the point, no roundabout riddles for Regina now. He's stalked forwards, and she could sense him just behind her chair. She was tempted to take the scales away, and see how long it took Regina to kill him. "You don't know?" Her expression was condescending, and she just wanted to rip it off.

"Huh. Well, after she got home..." _I never made it home you witch. Not to my Papa. _"...her fiance had gone missing..." _Well that's a shame. With any luck the moron is dead. _"...and after her stay here, her association with you..." She made it sound like a bad thing. She was a hero! "No one would want her of course." _They'd want me more than they'd want you, you hag. Except for your head on a spike. We all want that. Blood dripping onto the floor..._ "Her father shunned her. Cut her off, shut her out." _My father would never throw me out! But I'll bet yours is ashamed to call you his daughter! _"So she needs.. a home?" Why was he even playing along? Rumple looked so lost, like a little puppy. She wanted to reach out to him, but was afraid to give herself away. "He was cruel to her." Regina was having entirely too much fun. "He locked her in a tower and set in clerics to cleanse her soul with scourges and flaying. But she escaped and ran, and he sent his men after her. Soon enough though she came to a cliff. Fell off the side." _That was your fault you vile woman! I wish I'd dragged you down with me. The world would be a much better place._ "She died." That last part was sharp, designed to hurt, and she could see Rumple flinch beside her.

* * *

"You're lying."Why did the woman even _try_ to be better than him? "Am I?" Yes. Now go away! "We're done." He had Belle open the doors, and strode towards them. "Fine. I have other calls to make." Yes, he thought, go and get your head bitten off by Maleficent. "The place is looking dusty Rumple. You should get a new girl." The doors closed heavily behind her, and he took a deep breath. He turned to Belle, who was hyperventilating in her chair. "You really weren't working with Regina, were you?" She shook her head at him, whimpering a little from the pain she had caused herself by biting her lip. Even with a tooth missing the damage she could do was massive. "Did you ever make it home to your father?" She shook her head again, working up the courage to speak. "I was on my way back here when I fell." "Fell?" "Off the cliff." Her voice was subdued and he gazed at her a moment, his expression incredulous. "Why would you come back?" She frowned, and looked at him like it was obvious. "Because I love you."

* * *

His face instantly darkened, his eyes harder and colder than stone once more. He stood, moving up from his crouch, and she felt like punching him in the throat. And she would have done so, except he told her to go back to the dungeon. And stay there. She called the smoke to attention around her, and transported herself back to her cell. The walls were cold and the floor damp, and the window with its steel bars didn't let any light in. She had long since been forbidden from altering the interior or the exterior of her cell, mainly because she kept trying to make it bigger, warmer, or more comfortable. She sighed, blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. At some point he was going to have to start believing what she said to him.


	9. Chapter 9

**As close to freedom as she can get**

* * *

King George truly was a fool. He went through all that effort to procure a child for him, and he went and got him killed. Honestly. And now he needed a _new_ prince to slay a local dragon for Midas. Of course _he_ could kill the dragon, but Georgie Porgie seemed to have skipped over that point. At least the prince had been a twin. He and Belle could just go and fetch the other one. He was looking at the dead man at the moment and, although he wouldn't show it, he felt sorry for George, losing his son and last remaining family. If only he had waited a few days more, until after the Cinderella business was over. But still. The man would be able to tell him where that dratted 'bop' and flitted off to as the price, since Belle couldn't figure out where Cinderella actually lived. Ridiculous. So, off to a failing farm in the middle of nowhere. He called Belle away from the dead body with his mind, since she looked about ready to scribble on his face with the sharp looking quill in her hand. He was just glad she had remained invisible. George would have been horrified, and hilarious as that would have been, it would likely have ended in disaster. Belle probably wouldn't mind just letting George kill him.

Anyway. He tried to recall what the little farm had looked like all those years ago, and sent the image to Belle to find. In no time at all they were on their way, and he sincerely hoped the greedy King didn't notice his magic smoke had changed colour. They were going to have to work on appeared unseen on the edge of an expanse of green pastures, a long haired young man surveying his flock. He stood, feet apart, with his weight bared by a staff. Though the sheep were healthy and clean, the little wooden cottage was suffering. As they watched, waiting for the mother to return, Rumplestiltskin explained to Belle what he had seen in his visions. Snow White and this man, the replacement Prince James (thank the Gods it wouldn't be the _real_ one, that man was insufferable), would have a child that would be vital in his plans. In no time at all, although it felt like forever, the young soon-to-be-prince started to round up his sheep. Most came easily enough, but one slipped from the flock and they watched him chase it with his arms outstretched. He was startled by a giggle to the side of him, and turned his head to find Belle chuckling at the man's antics, her eyes bright. He scowled. That was the type of man his Belle was soon to realise she wanted. A handsome, carefree Prince. The only consolation was the prince probably wouldn't find her very attractive at the moment. He ignored his mind when it said Belle was all the more beautiful.

As the man caught the sheep, Belle still smiling, they watched an old woman wave to her son. He tilted his head towards Belle. "It's showtime!"

* * *

This fresh air cleared her mind. It was so much easier to think, so much easier to ignore the darkness, when she was outside the castle walls. She had not been out in the open air since Rumplestiltskin first summoned her with that awful dagger. She could breathe again, and the freedom made her laugh. That, and the ridiculous antics of the man before them. She smiled as she watched a sweet old woman, his mother, appear and encourage him to consider marriage, but also follow his own path. As they crept forwards, Rumple looking for an opening, Belle found herself liking the woman and the freedom she offered her son. It was too bad they were here to take that freedom away. The woman said "When are you going to learn? You can't have everything." It was here Rumple motioned for her to make him visible. "Perhaps he can." His voice drawled and his hands danced, and she watched the mother and son turn in surprise. The man really did look like his brother, identical save for that bird's nest mop of hair. The woman clearly recognised Rumple.

Some time later, after the woman had explained to her son _several times_ the severity of the situation, and after Rumple had had her summon a comfortable chair for him as he drank from his flask (all the leather was making him uncomfortable now that his body didn't regulate its own temperature), the 'Dark One' got bored. So he interrupted them. "Time is of the essence." She punched him in the arm. She watched as Rumple explained the deal to the shepherd, unsympathetic of his feelings, with dramatic voices and flourishes. He distracted the young man with roundabout phrases and promises of heroics. The poor man thus chose (was forced) to accept. She watched as the man embraced his mother with tears, and noted that Rumple couldn't bare to watch.

* * *

The next day, the 'prince' having been delivered and sent dragon slaying, Belle skipped in with news. It had been a long time since he had seen her skip. "The Prince killed the Dra-agon, the Prince killed the Dra-ha-gon." Her voice was sing-song-y and her eyes bright, and she reminded him of himself when his deals succeeded. He stood from his wheel where he had been spinning straw into gold (he had that much magic left at least, that and the seeing (unfortunately)) and said "You're in a good mood dearie. Haven't seen you this bright since you got here." She beamed at him, and it hurt to think he hadn't noticed it was missing. "Going outside yesterday made me feel much better. Lately it's been like the magic has been warring within my mind, but the fresh air truly did me wonders!" She gave a little hop and spun around him, a smile still on her face. He couldn't help himself, and he removed the dagger from his vest. Belle immediately calmed, the smile falling from her face and her eyes hardening as she eyed the weapon. "I now give you permission to leave the castle walls, as long as you remain on the grounds, whenever you wish, as long as you have not been given other tasks to do. You may also leave the castle grounds if you find there is an emergency you must tend to, as long as you come back immediately after finishing." She shivered as the command lodged itself in her mind, but even that didn't prevent the return of her smile. He slipped the dagger back into his vest just as she asked "May I go outside now?" Her hands were clasped together and she pouted a little (he didn't think she noticed), but it was her eyes that settled it. So bright, and hopeful.

"You may." He gave a nonchalant hand flourish and she beamed with delight, clapping her hands a little. She summoned a book to herself (it made it into her hands, and he suspected she had had a lot of practice at it), and on a whim leaped forwards to embrace him. As she dashed out of the doors she yelled "Thank you!" and it was only after she left that he managed to get past the boulder in his throat. "No matter..." He imagined she would be less pleased when she learned the slayer of the Dragon would be marrying Midas' daughter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Granting wishes**

* * *

Finally, now that Prince James had been replaced and he knew the whereabouts of that pesky fairy, he could go make that deal with Cinderella. The sun had set by the time he convinced Belle to come in from the garden. In the past two days she had become much more cheerful, taking delight in the fact she was now permitted to go outdoors. She 'poofed', as she called it, back into the Great Halls, and he rolled his eyes at the grass stains she had on her clothes and skin. He told her to clean herself up and she did, her deerskin and red leather outfit seemingly freshening itself, and she gave him a hesitant smile. "What are we doing today Rumple?" It had been a while since she had called him that. "Today, dearie, we're paying a visit to Cinderella." She smiled, happy they were going to make a lonely girl into a Princess. He had not yet told her they were going to be 'stealing' said Princess' first born. Ah well. It was need to know information. He'd tell her later.

He projected the image of the place in her mind, and she grasped a focus on it. Neither had been to the estate before, and so securing their travel there was difficult. They shifted between there and the dark castle, dramatic red smoke flaring around them. Belle had managed to create an illusion around her magic, so only she saw its true colour of blue, but it made transporting across the realm slower than it used to be, and Belle's ineptitude meant they rarely landed immediately. Instead they faded in and out of existence, reminding him of the time he had watched that Madman and his box disappear with his quickest route to Baelfire. The first time they shifted to the rundown building they watched three less-than-attractive women board a carriage in more-than-hideous dresses. The second time they saw the fair girl that had been left behind; it seemed she had been instructed to sweep up the dirt outside, and her dress was greying and in tatters. Fireworks went off in the distance to celebrate the Prince's ball. The third (and final) time they shifted to Cinderella's home they saw the Fairy Godmother flitting down in a garishly yellow dress, her dark skin complementing the colour and making it look less like a ruined pumpkin. He thanked Belle for shifting them there, and stepped forwards.

* * *

Rumple crept up behind the fairy in her off-gold dress, and sent her the command to 'get rid' of the woman. She suspected he meant kill but he thankfully hadn't specified, and in a dramatic collection of fire and light she transported the woman to a land she had read about, 'Agrabah'. Rumple didn't miss a beat, and immediately crouched, her making him visible a moment before, to pick up the now-abandoned wand. Belle could tell the poor woman-left-behind (though truly more of a girl-left-behind) was terrified, backing away in small steps from the scaly man before her, her breath short and quick to pass. She was a little irritated she had been made to remove the Fairy Godmother of this poor girl, but she could hardly disobey the man. She'd tried that at the start, and he'd commanded her to set herself on fire. He let her put it out after five minutes, and it truly didn't hurt that much with her thicker skin and higher capacity for pain, but he did not permit her to heal herself for five days and it was uncomfortable. She'd avoided him like the plague until he sheepishly apologised and promised to never command her to do such a thing again.

Now Rumple was dangling the wand in front of the blonde's face, her blue eyes following desperately. He called the wand evil, proclaiming 'all magic came with a price', and young Cinderella watched on confusedly. She reeked of desperation. Why should Rumple be the one to make the deals? _She_ wanted to know how it felt to have that power over a person! She forced herself out of it, to focus on the clean air around her. If only it didn't smell like a desperate soul! Now Rumple walked away, swinging the wand around in his hand but the child called him back. "Wait!" (I will go, with you, forever) "I can handle it!" She asked if he could wield the magic and he answered the positive, introducing himself. "Rumplestiltskin." There was something about the way he rolled his 'R's... He stepped closer to the girl, just brushing her shoulder, and informed her that using the magic meant she would owe him a favour. He asked for 'something precious', and Belle suddenly had a bad feeling about it all. He gave a swish of his hand, and it was too late for her to try and get young 'Ella to change her mind.

He had her summon a scroll and dramatically unfurled it, and the poor girl immediately lunged forward to sign it. Rumple offered his back as something to lean on, and the deal was struck. Then he had her remove the contract (she had long since been banned from reading them, after she tried to make amendments), and contemplated the figure before him. With a dramatic flourish of the wand the other woman was shrouded in the wand's signature smoke (a sickening pumkin-orange), and when it cleared the sight was breathtaking. Cinderella was now in a shimmering ball gown that Belle suspected matched her eyes, the straps frilled and sequined. Elbow-length white gloves covered her arms, and her elegantly done hair, piled upon her head in ringlets and curls, was adorned with a shimmering band of diamonds. She wore a matching necklace and earrings, and it looked as though her slippers were made of glass.

She had long since moved around to stand unseen beside Rumple, and as she stood there she realised he was staring. At Cinderella. With her face cleared of soot and her beaming smile she truly was radiant, the image of delicate beauty. Did Rumplestiltskin think so too? Had the girl before him stolen his breath away? His voice _did_ seem different as he spoke to her. Was he smitten with her, now that she was free and beautiful in a way Belle would never again be?

When the deal was done, and Cinderella off to the ball in her pumpkin carriage, he had Belle take them back to the castle. She complied, and asked him something she hadn't asked in a while. "Would you like some tea?" He smiled and looked at her. "The chipped cup, if you please." She smiled back.


End file.
